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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730784">not so simple</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/glueskin/pseuds/glueskin'>glueskin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Servamp (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Minor Injuries, Missing Scene, Post-C3 Arc, discussions of child abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:40:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/glueskin/pseuds/glueskin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>mahiru has questions. kuro wishes he could give him answers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuro | Sleepy Ash &amp; Shirota Mahiru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>not so simple</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>not much to say about this one. mahiru and kuro discuss abuse, people ignoring signs of said abuse, and what drives people to hurt those they should love. mostly mahiru is Many Thoughts Head Full.jpg</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you think he knew?” Mahiru asks.<br/><br/>His arm aches. The sewed-shut hole in his shoulder throbs dully in tine with the ache in the broken bones of his arm, just shy of painful, whatever opioids the hospital had given him still doing their job. Kuro looks up from where he’s laying on the floor of his room, the blinds drawn tight to hide the sun.<br/><br/>“Do I think who knew what?” Kuro asks. His voice is low, sleepy; he always speaks slowly, as if each word is an effort. Mahiru realizes he had asked his question aloud, when it had been meant for himself, but…<br/><br/>“My uncle. Do you think he knew about Tsurugi? He knew Touma when they were my age. They’ve worked together a long time.”<br/><br/>“Ah,” Kuro sighs, looking uncomfortable as he curls in on himself on the linoleum floor. Usually he would be in cat form on one of the chairs or the bed, but right now he seems resistant to indulging in physical comfort for some reason.<br/><br/>He’s clutching his thick coat in both hands, pulling it tighter around himself. He grips so tightly that the blue of his veins stick out against the back of his hands.<br/><br/>Mahiru’s about to apologize, or say it doesn’t matter, because he’s starkly reminded of how little he knows about Kuro—of who he was before and what he’s been through.<br/><br/>“Maybe he did,” Kuro says before Mahiru gets the chance. He's still slow but less sleepy than before; his posture is stiff and uncomfortable as he presses against the wall under the windowsill, looking like he might curl up and vanish into the shadows at any moment. “Maybe he didn’t. It’s...I know you like it when things are simple, but that isn’t a simple thing.”<br/><br/>Isn’t it? You see a child being hurt by someone, by anyone, and you—you do something. Something other than look away.<br/><br/>“Sometimes people see what they want to see,” Kuro says as if reading his thoughts, his voice almost a mumble at this point. “Your uncle...he’s a good guy. He raised you right, after all. But...I get the feeling Touma probably kept away from him when he could. Probably kept Tsurugi away, too. Your uncle wouldn’t want to think someone he knows would hurt a kid…especially someone who was also…”<br/><br/><em> Also hurt</em>, Kuro doesn’t say.<br/><br/>Mahiru wonders why it’s so hard for either of them to say. Not just hurt—abused. The word alone is enough to make him feel vaguely ill, even without what he had experienced in Touma’s mind.<br/><br/>For a few brief moments Mahiru had seen and felt what was not meant for his eyes or his heart; he had seen moments of Touma’s life, had felt his pain as clearly as if it were his own. His fear, too, mingled with disgust that curdled like spoiled milk in his stomach, stinging bile rising in his throat.<br/><br/>Such a visceral reaction over something as simple as a classmate reaching for his arm. Mahiru can't help but wonder if he had ever unintentionally made Sakuya feel like that. The thought makes the nausea more prominent, his chest aching and his eyes going warm.<br/><br/>“I guess,” Mahiru says slowly, not quite agreeing or disagreeing. “I just wish this were simpler. You’re right about Uncle Tooru being a good man, but...I can’t help thinking ‘how could he be blind to this?’ And more than that, how Touma could inflict the awful pain he experienced onto someone he loved.”<br/><br/>Because he had loved Tsurugi, Mahiru knows. He had felt it as he waded through his mind; it had bubbled up in his own chest, warm and bright, as Touma carried Tsurugi outside for the very first time.<br/><br/>“I know he felt stuck,” Mahiru says. “I know because of his own parents, he thought...he was sure that monster was all he could be. But where does it start? Why did his parents…” he trails off, feeling hot tears filling his eyes. Kuro’s shadowed visage becomes blurred.<br/><br/>“Don’t try to understand, Mahiru,” Kuro says. He speaks at almost a normal pace, panicked as he is by the sight of tears; Mahiru lifts his good arm to wipe them away with his sleeve. “You’ll drive yourself crazy trying to figure it out. Those kinds of people, they—they don’t always have a reason. And when they do, it’s all...excuses.”<br/><br/>Kuro’s closer than before when Mahiru sniffles and drops his arm. He’s at the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the thin mattress, his red eyes dulled to a shade closer to rust. He’s so pale the shadowy bruises under his eyes stand out even more than usual and a stab of guilt twists in Mahiru’s chest.<br/><br/>“Sorry. You’re, you’re right. I know. But…”<br/><br/>“But you wish it were simpler,” Kuro finishes, echoing his earlier words when Mahiru goes quiet.<br/><br/>Mahiru can hear the unspoken <em> me too</em>. He shifts, eyes still feeling too warm.<br/><br/>“Can you...you don’t have to, but can you come up?” He asks quietly. Kuro looks at him with wide, red eyes.<br/><br/>“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Mahiru mumbles. “Or if you want to be a cat. I just…”<br/><br/>“Okay,” Kuro says. He clenches and unclenches his grip on the edge of the bed before standing slowly, as if weighed down by something; he shoulders out of his thick coat, dropping it onto the visitors chair and hesitating.<br/><br/>Mahiru rarely sees him out of his coat but doesn’t stare at his long, skinny arms; instead he shifts to the side to make more room, tugging back the thin hospital bedding. Kuro climbs in, lifting his knees until he’s curled on his side. His lanky body is almost too long for the bed yet he somehow makes himself seem small.<br/><br/>He makes a noise of relief when Mahiru tugs the blanket back over them both; Mahiru himself sinks back into the pillows, expression twisting in a grimace as he jostles his injured shoulder. Kuro winces by his side at the sight.<br/><br/>“You should be fine in a few days,” Kuro tells him. His voice has become slow again, lethargy dragging his words in a now-familiar and comforting drawl. “I’ll rest up plenty to speed it along, too.”<br/><br/>“Thanks, Kuro,” Mahiru smiles, sleepy and sore, eyes itching from the effort of holding back more tears. “I didn’t get to say before, but...you were pretty cool out there, you know.”<br/><br/>Kuro flushes. On his unhealthily pale skin the blotchy red staining his face stands out too much; he mumbles something about what a pain Mahiru is as he turns his face into the pillow, hiding his expression.<br/><br/>His hand inches away from where it had been tucked to his chest, toward the middle of the bed. His fingers touch Mahiru’s and go still; Mahiru smiles wetly, curling his fingers around Kuro’s cold palm.<br/><br/>As he begins to doze, Mahiru decides. When he goes home tomorrow he’ll ask his uncle—about C3, Tsurugi, Touma. And…<br/><br/><em> Oh, I know it well. Better than anyone. </em><br/><br/>Touma’s voice, quiet and raspy, like smoke in his ears. Like poison burning in his blood.<br/><br/><em> Your father is a terrible, wicked man. </em><br/><br/>As his lashes flutter and his eyes dip shut, Kuro’s hand warming in his own, Touma’s expression when he had been refuted lingers in Mahiru’s mind.<br/><br/>He had looked, in that moment, not just disbelieving and horrified.<br/><br/>He had looked relieved and inexplicably content.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact i love coffee and my username is glueskin</p></blockquote></div></div>
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